Strive
by blackandwhity
Summary: Set in season 10, back half; roughly one tag per episode. Tiva, working hard on their relationship and making it work. No Ziva involution or Adam in this universe...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** _This is the first chapter of a big project I've been working on for a long time now. I'm basically rewriting the back half of season 10 in the way I believe would have been truly organic and that would have led Tiva to be canon by the season finale.  
Each chapter will be a tag to an episode and it will focus on Tiva (duh).  
The events of this first chapter take place after episode 10x12, Shiva._

 _PS I own nothing, blah blah blah... otherwise we wouldn't even be here._

* * *

The sudden buzz of an incoming text shook Tony out of the haze he had fallen into while handling some backlog. Paperwork had piled up in the previous days, after the emergency of the shooting at the Vance's.

 _Hey, you busy?_

Ziva. For a second, he was unsure on how to respond. If she was asking him that, it could only mean she needed to talk to him, but on the other hand, if she texted instead of calling maybe she wasn't really up for a proper conversation. He was quick to throw precaution out of the window and press on the "call" button, though, because he needed to hear her voice, and probably that was just what she needed too.

"Hey." Her quiet greeting interrupted the second beep.

"Hey" was his answer, and then he pretty much got stuck. He hadn't thought it through. He couldn't just do small talk and ask her how things were going.

She saved him, being the good partner she was.

"Quiet day?"

"Yeah… no, just paperwork, you know," he answered. "The truth is, there is too much silence here without you" he added, deliberately playing with the "quiet" cue.

She snorted. "As if I was the loud one in there."

He chuckled along, relieved to hear her joke.

"You know, it's too quiet here, too" she continued, more softly.

"Wait, what? I thought–" He bit his tongue, cursing himself for almost giving away his partly alarmed, partly pissed reaction. She wasn't supposed to be abandoned with her grief. He wasn't an expert on Shiva, but he knew that after the funeral people were supposed to visit the mourner. She had never told him much about her friends and family in Israel, but he had always assumed she was still in contact with some people. Had he been so utterly wrong? How was it possible that nobody had showed up? He couldn't ask her that. He was about to ask where Shmeil was instead, when she intervened to solve some of his doubts.

"People have come and left, Tony. Shmeil helped me with that, I needed some time alone. And now that I am… I needed a friend."

"Oh." Her answer didn't make things much better. The heart of the matter was the same: she felt alone. He exhaled. "I would jump on the first plane if I could, Ziva."

"I know." She did know she _wasn't_ alone. "It's not necessary though. Let's just talk a bit, yes?"

"As you wish," he answered charmingly, smiling by himself, glad she had confirmed once again that she hadn't forgotten she could count on him. Then he tried to steer the conversation towards the lighter side. "So, what about the obnoxious acquaintances you kicked out?"

"It's not that they're obnoxious, it's just that I don't know these people anymore. And you know, all the superficial, or fake comments about how great my father was and the great things he has done…" She stopped. She didn't want to say out loud how disgusted some of the things that had been said had made her feel. She resented herself for not being able to believe them, or to be one of those people who can forgive and forget a dead man's sins right after his passing.  
She changed subject, trying to go back to the easier direction Tony had set.

"I've been talking about you today."

"Really?"

"I did. It was because of the eulogy. It was difficult to figure it out, initially. I was stuck, so at some point I just wrote down the opening line you suggested, and tried to restart from there. And it made the trick. It helped me clear my head about what I wanted to say." She paused for a second before adding what she held dear most. "And breaking the ice with it when it was time to deliver it made it easier. You were there, somehow."

And just like that, she had stolen his breath. It had come so unexpected. The affectionate tone she had used to utter that last sentence made him feel the urge to hug her again. And never let her go, if possible. He couldn't, though, he had to convey his feelings with words, and by phone.

"That's… wow. Wow, Ziva" was all he could draw out.

His speechlessness was so unlike him, that she misunderstood. It had triggered a sudden thought in her mind.

"Does it bother you that I mentioned I was quoting you? I know you didn't exactly like my father."

She mentally kicked herself for not thinking about it earlier. She had acted on impulse at the funeral, without considering if Tony would have had any problems with being involved.

"Of course it's okay! It's an honor, Ziva, really," he reassured her, taken aback by her reaction, and sorry for her tendency to burden herself with unnecessary guilt. "And I'm more than glad to have contributed to his eulogy if that helped you."

"Thank you. For understanding… and for the hint." She hoped he would hear her smile. "People asked a lot of questions about you, afterwards."

"No wonder, who wouldn't want to know more about Tony DiNozzo, orator extraordinaire? You told them good things, I hope... or will I have some Mossad rogue crazypants hot on my heels within the next 48 hours?"

"I'm pretty sure I did not give anyone of Mossad any reason to, Tony."

"'Pretty sure' isn't very reassuring. Plus, I'd like to have a chance to see you when you get back, so I wouldn't appreciate being kidnapped before the weekend."

"About that… I am not coming back this weekend. I am leaving for Be'er Sheva tonight, and I will stay there a few days."

"Tonight? Isn't it very late already, there?"

"It's not that late, and even if it were, I don't want to stay here at my father's house. Also, it's just an hour's drive."

"An hour of your driving or an hour of normal speed driving?" he asked, genuinely worried. Then he realized she probably wasn't in the mood to put up with being teased about her driving style, so he dropped it. Almost.  
"Sorry. Just text me when you get there, so that I know that you haven't got yourself arrested for breaking every existing traffic law, ok?"

* * *

Going to the house she was born in, surrounded by trees and floral smells and silence and memories, had been a choice made on instinct. A couple of old friends had offered her some company, but self-preservation had prevailed over politeness and traditions. She needed to elaborate her grief on her own.

Staying at her father's apartment wasn't an option, as she had told Tony. That place was completely foreign to her. It had taken less than an hour, after the visitors had left, for the unease of being there to start creeping up her back. She had called Tony to get rid of that sensation, to let his familiar voice ground her. It had, and the idea of leaving, that had been on the back of her mind, had become real.

Her first day in the house passed quickly. The little mansion had stayed closed for years, so it needed to be ventilated and there was dust to be removed. Taking care of her old home was weirdly soothing. There was something about it that made her feel as if she never left. As if she was taking care of the people who used to live in there with her.  
She found two photo albums and a few books, which she dusted and put into her suitcase. She took a walk in the orchard at sundown. The uncut grass, the untrimmed and unharvested trees made the place look more abandoned than the house itself, and while the walk in the nature felt regenerating, she didn't find the peace she was looking for.

When the night came, she found herself unable to fall asleep for the fourth night in a row, no matter how tired she felt. Everything around her felt incomplete: the house had been abandoned, the trees had been neglected… and her relationship with her father was full of things left unsaid. And those things kept parading in her mind, and slowly but inexorably they were joined by all the grief she had carried for decades, for her brother, her mother, her sister.

She stood up, switched some lights on and exited the bedroom, hoping to find some relief in the kitchen. Minutes later, with a freshly brewed chamomile tea in her hands, she realized it was the silence, that was messing with her sanity. That house had never been silent when she was a kid, but it had been ages now, since those walls had heard a conversation, or a laugh, or noises in the kitchen. It made her crave the sound of a friendly voice.

She had just gone online on Skype when Tony's goofy profile picture popped up on her screen. The sound of the ringtone made her feel immediately better.

* * *

She was already walking out of the airport when he managed to reach it. He pulled over in a very questionable spot and gestured towards her. She greeted him from afar with a wave and a smile, then rushed in his direction, noticing he was breaking some traffic laws.  
Hadn't he been there just for her, this fact could have been great retaliation material.

He slammed the car door when she got close, walked around the car and stopped right in front of her.

"I thought I told you I could take a cab."

"And I thought I told you to stop arguing and meet me here."

She shook her head, smiling.

"Thank you."

He smiled back. "Give me your bag and hop on. We need to move before I get a parking fine."

The drive was mostly silent, aside from some casual catching up about the team. He wanted to ask her if she was hungry and take her to eat something and maybe talk a little bit, but the dark circles under her eyes suggested him to back off for now.

He wasn't surprised. Their video chat in the middle of the night had been a clear enough sign. He knew she had spent the next three days doing what she had defined "therapeutic gardening", which probably meant she had tried to reach oblivion through physical exhaustion.

When he dropped her off at her house she looked grateful. She knew him too well not to know he was going against his talkative nature. Silence was her way of coping, not his.

She insisted she could carry her suitcase up the stairs on her own and wished him goodnight. Moments after walking into her home, though, she felt something was wrong. She could not pinpoint what was different, but she couldn't shake the sensation that someone had been there.  
Her nerves on the edge, she quickly searched for her phone. If Tony had left her there it meant the team had made sure the place was safe, but Ilan was still at large after all and…  
She finally found her phone, that interrupted her thoughts buzzing in her hand.

 _Sorry, I forgot to tell you I stopped by this afternoon to turn the heating on. There are some groceries in the fridge in case you're hungry. I hope your spidey senses hadn't already put you on alert :)_

A second text followed right after.

 _Welcome back, Ziva._

* * *

 **A/N** _Feedback appreciated, as always. Thank you for reading. I hope this is a promising enough start for you guys, because I'm very satisfied about the next 3 chapters..._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** _This chapter is a tag to episode 10x13, Hit and Run. More specifically, it refers to a deleted scene from that episode. I assume you all have seen it by now, but if you haven't, do it now! Not for the chapter (even though it will certainly make better sense), but because you're missing out_ _in life- um,_ _in your fangirl experience!_

* * *

The first days she was back at the office weren't easy. Tony kept tiptoeing around her, not sure if the openness she had shown while she was away was just due to her emotional state, to the distance, maybe a combination of the two, and if it was going to last. She seemed to have appreciated his little intrusion in her apartment, but still he could sense that she needed some space.

He let her have it for a couple of days, and then he took a chance after they solved the case and the Abby emergency had subsided. He knew he would have found some resistance on her part, even if he had made a safe bet by proposing a camping trip, an activity she notoriously enjoyed. Probably the "inner peace" motive had turned out a bit awkward and had given him away too easily.  
At least she had taken it well.

He was startled by the ring of his phone while he was dozing off on his couch, a couple of hours after they had parted.

"Yeah, DiNozzo," he mumbled.

"Oh… I'm sorry Tony, I did not mean to wake you up. We can talk tomorrow, it is not urgent."

"No wait, I'm awake. Everything alright?"

"Yeah, fine. I was just thinking that it wasn't such a bad idea. The camping."

Wow, he thought. He was surprised. There was quite an admission behind that statement.

"Of course it wasn't bad, it was my idea," he joked, and heard her snort. Then he switched the attention to the practicalities. "Any preferences?"

"Yes, actually. I have checked online, there is the chance on some trails to spend the night in a cabin, instead of pitching a tent."

"Seriously?" He laughed. "I'd at least expected you'd suggest to sleep outdoors and on the bare ground!"

"Not in January, Tony, I am not too keen on the idea of dying of exposure. Besides… I know you are doing this for me, so we should at least compromise. And even though these cabins are primitive, a fireplace is available. I cannot spare you the dirt, but to the cold there is a solution."

She was smiling and he could hear it. He wasn't sure if it was that or her thoughtfulness, but his enthusiasm regarding camping activities reached a historic maximum.

"Alright Solomon, I'm in. Even though a sane person would never accept an invitation to a cabin in the woods made by a former assassin."

Being on the phone spared him a smack on the arm.

* * *

They left for the Appalachian Trail impossibly early that Saturday morning, and Ziva tried to illustrate to a half asleep Tony the itinerary she had planned for the next two days.

She had chosen hikes which ratings were in a range from easy to moderate, partly because the difficult trails were at a too high altitude, where they risked to find a lot of snow, partly because it was in line with her compromise plan, and she didn't mind at all.

Aside from the lunch stop, in which Tony filled the air with his antics as soon as he caught his breath and filled his stomach, they walked mostly in silence, enjoying the inner peace that the wilderness actually offered, after all.  
That was unsurprising to her, she had already taken refuge in the nature after her father's funeral, and it had been somewhat therapeutic, as long as it had lasted. It felt even more effective there in the woods, though. Be it the physical and temporal distance, be it the physical effort that claimed her focus, be it the welcome company, she felt more carefree and lighthearted than she had been in weeks, or maybe longer.

The temperature dropped considerably during the last portion of their hike, and it was freezing by the time they arrived to the cabin, so even if the first thing they did was lighting up the fire, it took some time to gain a decent temperature in it.  
While Ziva took some groceries out of her backpack, Tony left the fireplace and walked to her.

"You know, we make a good team."

"And you find out now?" she teased, amused, and curious to know where he was getting at.

"No, of course, not. I just mean I have good ideas and you make them better. It's been a nice day, right?"

"Yes, it has," she confirmed, still trying to follow his train of thought.

"But it'd have been our last if you hadn't looked for a different solution for the night. I don't think I've ever appreciated a fireplace so much!" he declared theatrically, drawing a snort out of her.

"You're welcome, Tony," she answered playfully.

She felt she was the one who had to thank him, and not the other way around, but she was used to have their banter drive things in unpredictable directions, so she didn't dwell upon the question too much.  
They grinned to each other and started to take care of the dinner.  
Once again she let Tony distract her with his horror movies references, legends and other weird stories where a cabin in the woods was involved, that made her snort, roll her eyes and laugh along.

The merry atmosphere toned down later as they sat comfortably in front of the fireplace, enjoying the warmth, the crackles of the fire and the physical closeness to each other.

She suddenly broke the silence uttering a soft "Thank you, Tony."

He turned his head and found her looking at him with a serious but affectionate expression. The lights of the fire were dancing on her features, intensifying her look.  
For the first time that day, he didn't try to deflect with humor. He was tempted for a second to point out that she had taken care of all the organization and driven them there, and he had done nothing, but he knew this was not what she was referring to.  
So he looked her in the eyes just as intensely, to make sure she knew that he had understood, before telling her she was welcome. It was ironic that when it came to their relationship nonverbal communication was so much more reliable than the talking. That was usually his forte, after all.

She nodded, smiling.  
His eyes were focused on hers, but out of the corner of the eye he noticed she was wetting her lips with her tongue and the sight made his mouth water and his heart speed up a bit.

She took a breath and murmured "Tony, I – "

When she spoke he realized that she was dangerously close and that his hand was spontaneously moving to her cheek. He froze midair. He needed to control himself, she needed a friend, and he wasn't going to let his feelings screw up just when she was finally letting him in, albeit slowly.  
When his brain kicked back into gear, he also noticed that once again she hadn't finished the sentence and couldn't take it anymore.

"Ziva, you can't keep doing this," he said, sounding a little more exasperated than he intended. "Say it, whatever it is, what is stopping you?"

"It's just…" she mused, "I am not used to say these things. There has been only one person in my life to whom I could show my love with words, and it was my sister, and she has been gone for almost ten years."

"Why do you say she was the only one to whom you _could_ talk? You can talk to me, and I'm sure it's the same for the rest of the team."

She snorted and tilted her head. "Gibbs?"

He winced.

"Ok, good point. He's very fond of you though, you know that. The fact he's not good with words doesn't mean you cannot talk to him. And Ziva…" He covered her hand with his, trying get all her attention and to convey how much he was serious about this matter. "You can _always_ talk to me. I know that in the past we haven't been very good in that department, and that it took us a while to get to this point but… the post elevator us? It's a thing. If you want this too, I'm all for honesty and sharing. Okay?"

"I do. I want this, really."

They smiled to each other, happy of their growing understanding and intimacy.  
He put an arm around her shoulders and she nestled against his chest, exhaling slowly to let all her thoughts go. She wanted to focus on the sensation of his warm body around hers, enjoy the freedom of holding him without being interrupted by elevator doors opening and phones ringing and cases needing attention. That moment was entirely theirs. For once, she allowed herself the luxury of not having to inhibit her feelings for him, to admit to herself that she needed him and that being dependent wasn't always so wrong.  
Having him made her feel lucky about her life. It was a weird feeling to have, a week after having buried the last member of her family, but he had made her feel cherished and loved and not alone, and all that was soothing her deepest and oldest wounds for the time being.

"I was going to say that I feel better," she mumbled against his chest. "I know I always say I'm fine and you don't believe me, but I really do feel better today."

She felt him hold his breath. He had sensed that the difficult-to-share part had yet to come.

"I do not think I would have accomplished this without you. I don't know what I would have done the day of the funeral if you had not called. You saved me from feeling alone and lost, and for that I thank –"

"Okay, no, listen, you've thanked me already," he broke her off, and he felt bad about it because he had literally just told her that she should feel free to tell him anything. But what he needed to make her understand was even more important. "I'm here for you because I _care_ , Ziva."

"I know," she intervened, confused. "This is why I –"

"No, this is exactly why you shouldn't be thanking me. You need to accept that there are people who care for you and have love for you, and you just don't thank them for it! You thank for the gestures, not for the love behind them."

Speechless, she sat up straighter to look him in the eyes and nodded, before taking his cheek gently in her palm and kissing his other cheek, as she had done years earlier.

And then she just found herself unable to stop. She pecked his temple, his forehead, his eyelids when he closed his eyes, lost in the sensations, the corner of his mouth and finally his lips. He answered to the peck, once, twice, before deepening the kiss a bit.  
Her hands started wandering in his hair and on his chest, while his got lost in her hair on her neck.  
She heated up the kiss further, tasting his lips and his tongue, leaving him thirsty and breathless. When he broke the kiss and opened his eyes, he saw desire in hers, and it was nothing like the lustful glances she used to cast him in the past, it was so much powerful, and sent his arousal through the roof. But then he saw there were also hope, and desperation, and need, and vulnerability in her look, and remembered that it just wasn't the right time.

He grabbed her upper arms to put some distance between them, and then collected all his courage to say what needed to be said.

"We should stop here, Ziva."

She stiffened and looked hurt for a moment, before managing to put on her usual mask and moving to stand up.  
He kept his grip on her arms, gently, just to let her know he didn't want her to leave, but without forcing her.

"I'm just trying to do the right thing here. One of us has to stay clear headed."

She replied with and unconvinced "Yeah, sure", and made a second attempt to leave. He let her.

He stayed where he was, staring at the fire. They both could use some time to cool down, and there weren't other rooms where they could hide.  
When he finally went after her, she was already in bed, turned away from him.

"I can sleep on the couch, if you prefer."

Her only answer was a bitter snort. As he was taking his pillow and covers, though, her voice stopped him.

"Are you afraid I will assault you in your sleep?"

She was going for the banter. Maybe the situation wasn't too bad then.

"I thought you maybe… wanted some space," he stuttered.

"Sure Tony, I am spending my weekend camping with you because I need to be alone. Makes sense."

He sat on his side of the bed, unsure of how to respond. They had literally just made a pact to go for honesty, and he was determined to stick to it.

"Okay, listen. I'm not pushing you away. Don't take what just happened as a rejection, please."

"And how should I take it?"

"As I said, one of us has to be level headed, and this time it's my duty. You're mourning, Ziva."

She turned around abruptly, and she looked full on pissed.

"So what? Do you think I kissed you 'because I'm sad'? I had just told you that _I am fine_!"

"Yeah, and you also told me you were grateful because I'm helping you to feel better. I think… I just don't want you to mistake gratitude for a bigger sentiment and –"

He hesitated, and gestured her to let him finish when she opened her mouth to retort.

"And I cannot accept you might be doing this to feel less alone."

She sat up straighter, looking outraged.

"You don't… you didn't understand…" she mumbled. "How can you even think this? Do you really believe this is the first time I want to kiss you? That the only feelings I have are gratitude and the need to feel less alone? I thought we were going somewhere lately, Tony. But perhaps I was mistaken."

"We were, we _are_ ," he stressed, a little desperate. "I'm not saying this is not going to happen, I'm just saying it's not the right time. I'm not questioning your feelings in general, I'm questioning your feelings _now_. Besides, we have things to work on. We hadn't even acknowledged something was going on before, do you realize this?"

She felt her anger and disappointment drain away while she recognized that his reasoning made sense. She nodded. He sat closer to her.  
She tried to calmly explain him how she felt. He deserved that much.

"Tony, I really did not kiss you for comfort, I did because I had a great day, and it felt good to be together and I… how do you say? Went with the flow?"

"I know, I've had a great day too, and I can't wait to have another chance to be alone with you and just enjoy being together, but I need you to be okay first. I need you to be sure that I'll always be on your side, and I also need to be sure that you won't run away from me when you're scared or confused or hurting. Don't make that face, you always do."

She closed her mouth, knowing well that she had no arguments against his statement. Aside from one.

"I did not run now."

"You didn't," he acknowledged with a smile.

"If you think I overreacted, I'm sorry. I just couldn't make love to you without clearing the air first. I want us to have a real chance, Ziva."

"And you think I don't?" she challenged, but didn't give him the time to answer. "Not the right time, okay I got it."

"We'll work things out," he affirmed, as convincingly as he could.

"I know."

They exchanged a look, and that was enough to seal the pact.

When they finally laid down, she found it impossible to fall asleep. She turned her back to him, trying to focus on her breathing to relax and to forget he was so close and yet so out of reach.  
He sensed her tension and his hands itched to stroke her hair, but he knew he had no right to touch her right after having rejected her.

"We okay?" he asked instead.

"Yes, Tony, I just…" she faltered. Then, to her horror, she blurted out her thoughts before she could stop them. "Can we not ruin this weekend, pretend none of this happened and go back to the holding and feeling good together, please?"

Relieved, he couldn't help but mock her a bit.

"Oho, Ziva David, I would have never guessed you were cuddly."

"And I would never have guessed Tony DiNozzo, playboy extraordinaire, would have turned down sex _and_ made fun of a woman asking and offering some physical contact all at once."

"Touché. Shutting up and spooning, chief."

* * *

 **A/N** _Thank you for reading. And thanks to every one who reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. I was amazed by your reaction to the first chapter!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** _Sorry I'm late guys. I really couldn't post yesterday. Here's the tag to episode 10x14, "Canary". A light and fluffy break, before yours truly turns into Satan and makes you cry in chapter 4.  
Many thanks to the ever amazing CharlieWise for the precious feedback and for being an irreplaceable problem solver!_

* * *

Tony and Ziva had just finished their paperwork after bringing Khan in custody, when Kevin made an appearance.

"Hey guys! Great job today!" he began. "I'm here in name of all the technicians to thank you. As I told you, the death of one of our own had shaken us, and it's good to know that who's responsible is gonna pay."

"You contributed, Kevin, you do not need to thank us," observed Ziva.

He smiled, humbled and grateful.

"Yeah well… thanks anyway. Listen, tonight I should have performed at my improv school show, but it's late. McGee and Abby have agreed to go drink something together anyway, wanna join?"

Ziva glanced at Tony, who had already put up the charming expression he always used to decline invitations politely, and didn't give him the time to answer.

"We would love to, Kevin, thank you."

She glared at Tony, who was looking at her in utter disbelief. He got the message and managed to produce a broad grin and an awkward "thumbs up" while Kevin gave them the address.  
After the tech had left, Tony walked closer to Ziva, looked around to check that nobody would hear him, and finally blurted out the incredulous question he couldn't keep any longer.

"Why did you just stuck us at the nerds' night out?"

"Because they're our _friends_ , Tony, and we haven't celebrated in a long time," she answered simply, taking her coat and starting to walk out of the bullpen.

"Yes, they're our friends, but they're like, team nerd! They'll outnumber us and bury us! Have you heard his concept of humor?" he rejoined, opening his eyes wide and waving his hands.

She stopped in front of the elevator and glared at him a second time, tilting her head to the side.

"Ok, we haven't celebrated with the team in a long time." He knocked it off.

Once in the elevator, though, he resumed his act. He turned abruptly to her and grabbed her forearm.

"We need an escape plan!" he exclaimed.

"I'm pretty sure t _hey_ 'll need one. Have you ever heard _your_ sense of humor after a couple of drinks?" she retorted.

He left her arm. "Ziva David, you hurt my feelings."

She patted his cheek to soothe the metaphorical bruise she had just inflicted him and walked out the elevator.

Once outside, he tried to sneak to his car.

"Tony. Mine."

Her tone of voice and the way her eyes and her hand pointed to her car left no space for debate.  
He chuckled at her bossiness.

* * *

It became clear after the first round of drinks that also Kevin's sense of humor could worsen under the influence of some alcohol.

Tony kept making faces at a flabbergasted Ziva while their three companions roared with laughter at dreadful puns and science jokes. Halfway through the second round of drinks, though, he started making puns on the puns himself, effectively joining the opposite team.  
After the third round – or maybe it was the fourth – even Ziva had enough alcohol in her system to burst out laughing.  
The moment her voice joined their choir, Tony's laughter died down, replaced by an amazed expression. Ziva rarely laughed this openly and with gusto; she often smiled and chuckled and sniggered, but it had been a long time since he had heard the blessed sound of her actual laughter.  
She drew herself together when she sensed his stare, and smiled at him. He squeezed her forearm, and with a smile even wider than hers he resumed his shenanigans.  
Anything, to hear her laugh like that again.

* * *

When they finally left the bar an hour and a couple of other drinks later, they were high both on the alcohol and on the good mood. They took a walk to try and sober up a bit, giggling at the worst jokes of the night, at Tony's numerous slips on the slush ("Leather soles with this weather, Tony? Seriously?"), and even at the amount of snowflakes that were getting stuck on Ziva's curls.  
At their third almost-slip stop, Ziva chuckled and gave a quick look around.

"We should take a cab. We're already too far from my car and you're just going to end up breaking a leg on the next sheet of ice."

"It's very nice of you to worry about me, but you can admit we're both too drunk to drive, I don't think that'll undermine our reputation."

"I am perfectly fine, actually. I'm beyond the alcohol limit, though, so I'm just being responsible," she stated, matter-of-factly. "And you would truly be insufferable with a broken leg, if your complaining when you get a cold is of any indication." she teased him, squeezing his arm lightly to let him know she didn't mean it.

"Ha. Haha. Very funny. If you hadn't come to bring me that delicious chicken soup of yours a few times, I could've believed you."

She was about to retort that she had done it only because the sooner he'd heal, the sooner he'd stop complaining, but that would have been a lie… and she was tired of lies and denial. There was no reason to hide anymore, they had an agreement. They were finally moving forward. So she just smiled, tacitly admitting that he was right, and looked around again for a cab.  
She got distracted, though. He looked in the same direction and saw what had caught her attention. From where they stood, they could spot the snowy dome of the Capitol, which was a nice a sight even for him who hated that weather, let alone for Ziva who was a snow enthusiast.  
He wondered how she could still be this fascinated by it after living so many years in DC, but there she was in awe like a kid, the snowflakes stuck on her curls, her eyes on the landscape and a huge smile on her lips. She looked happy, and that was the most beautiful sight for him.  
When she turned around to look back at him, the intensely affectionate expression on his face stole her breath and the comment she was about to make.

He wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful, that he wanted to see her always happy and to hear her laugh every day, but he didn't find the words to do it without sounding cheesy. He wanted to kiss her, but he didn't trust himself to respect the deal they had made in the cabin. So he took her hand and kissed her knuckles softly. A bit old-fashioned, but it felt appropriate for that moment and for that stage of their relationship.  
Then, when he couldn't handle her intense gaze any longer, he finally spoke.

"Thank you for dragging me at this insane night out. If you had told me I would have had such a good time a couple of hours ago, I wouldn't have believed you."

"You _didn't_ believe me," she retorted, but in a softer way than usual.

"Right," he chuckled. "I guess I just didn't remember how infectious laughter can be."

She opened her mouth slightly, and closed it in a crooked smile. He took it as a sign that she had gotten that he was referring to her.

* * *

 **A/N** _I hope you're all in Agnes mode. Stay tuned, dear readers, I have good stuff in store :)_

 _Thank you as always for reading and letting me know you thoughts, I love it!_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** _Onwards! Posting a day early because it's my birthday, and I feel like making us all a gift.  
This chapter is a tag to episode 10x14, Hereafter.  
_ _ **Warning for heavy themes.**_ _Difficult familiar situations, divorce, depression and loss of a parent are discussed or at least mentioned.  
I tried to go easy on all this as much as I could, since my goal was to create a moment of openness and intimacy that mirrored the "Little Prince scene" in Shell Shock pt.1. That said, I will completely understand if some of you will prefer to skip this chapter altogether._

* * *

 _«Все счастливые семьи похожи друг на друга, каждая несчастливая семья несчастлива по-своему.»_

 _"All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."_ _  
_Lev N. Tolstoy, _Anna Karenina_

* * *

" _As good as it can be."_

She felt her control falter for the first time that night.  
When Vance had asked her and Tony to go babysit his kids, she had been worried. She wanted to help him any way she could, but she was not eager to go back to the place where her father had died, and frankly she was afraid to face the kids who had also lost a parent that night. Then she had told herself she had to keep it together. If those kids could _live_ in the house where their mother had died, she certainly could suck it up and spend a couple of hours in there with them.  
She had let Tony drive and kept quiet the whole trip. She knew he'd worry, but she just couldn't open up and share her anxiety if she wanted to arrive at the house with the right attitude.  
He had seemed to get it, because he had let her be, and only checked on her every once in a while with fleeting and discreet glances.

While she walked out the door, she realized that she had managed to keep her mask in place all the evening just thanks to his little overdramatic scene at their arrival. She was almost sure he had pulled a classic DiNozzo to distract her and put her in a position where she had to be the one in charge and therefore be focused on the task. It had worked, she hadn't thought of anything that didn't concern taking care of the kids and hadn't let her feelings get in the way, until Vance had walked in.  
Her brief exchange with him had finally shattered her walls, despite its positive outcome.  
She hoped Tony would follow her quickly outside, because now that the assignment was completed and she had nothing to keep her thoughts away from the dark zone, lingering in that driveway would take apart her sanity flashback after flashback.

He made her wish true appearing at her side, touching her back and uttering in his deepest voice "Let's go home".

Since the drive back appeared to be no less quiet than the outward trip, Tony tried to cast a casual comment.

"Wasn't too bad after all… nice kids. And they give the right importance to the classics, that certainly made it eas –"

"You can quit the act now, Tony. _That_ certainly made it easier for me. I appreciate it."

He made his typical "you got me" face and smiled.

"You're welcome. It wasn't all completely fake, you know? I _am_ uncomfortable around kids."

"It did not look like it."

"It's always easy to hide behind shenanigans," he answered, sounding self-conscious.

She narrowed her eyes, surprised by his demeanor.

"It does not sound as a bad thing, if it helps people around you to feel better," she observed.

He smiled at her, grateful for her comment. They remained silent for a while, before he revealed the reason for his uneasiness.

"I just wish… you know, I've been there, I should be able to give them a word of wisdom, but I can't, 'cause my mom has been gone for over thirty-five years and I'm still mourning. It's like –" he interrupted his somber musings abruptly. "Sorry."

He cast a sideways glance to her to check if he had saddened her further. The passing light of a street lamp revealed a mostly annoyed expression on her features.

"I told you already, Tony. There is no reason to have taboos. What is the point of the whole sharing agreement if you cannot talk to me about 'the things that matter', to use your words?"

"True. I just didn't want to be insensitive."

"You were not." She exhaled. "I was thinking about my mother too. It is inevitable after a night like this, yes?" she added quietly.

He twisted his mouth in a silent and bitter agreement.

"Every family is different, Tony. Vance's kids have something in common with us, but they also have a good father and they have each other. I'm not saying it will be easier for them, but… different. Every loss is different. We cannot give them any word of wisdom for this reason."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he commented.

He pulled over in front of her house reluctantly, not keen on leaving her alone with her thoughts and being alone with his own. She either picked up what he had in mind or shared the sentiment, because she did the last thing he would have expected from her.

"Come in and drink something?" she proposed.

He winced. "You mean drink drink? As in getting drunk together?"

Getting tipsy with their friends on a happy occasion was one thing, but drinking themselves oblivious on such a hard moment didn't sound like a smart idea.

"As in drink something warm, Tony." Her lips twitched, tracing the ghost of a smile.

"Oh." Of course Ziva would know better than that. "I'd love to."

* * *

Sitting on her couch twenty minutes later, with two steamy mugs on her coffee table, they didn't seem to be able to find their way back into the conversation they had started in the car.

Ziva tucked her feet under herself and drew a blanket over her legs, offering him a corner of it. He smiled, pleased by the intrinsic intimacy of her gesture, but let her have it all. He enjoyed the sight of Ziva wrapping herself protectively in the blanket and took a closer look to it. It had some irregular knots, and its color, a rich deep blue, turned abruptly into a lighter shade on one edge, as if whoever had made it had finished the wool too soon.

"You never told me you could knit," he observed, trying to restore the conversation.

"Because I cannot. And it's crocheted. My mother made it, ten years ago."

"Oh. Well, she was skilled." He paused. "You know, you never talk about her either" he pointed out, referencing her comment of months earlier, when he had showed her a picture of his mother in the break room.

"I do not for your same reasons. More or less." She gritted her teeth. "It is not just that she broke my heart… it is more that I have contributed to break hers."

"Why would you think that?" he asked, genuinely bewildered by how far her inclination to guilt could go.

She looked down and started fiddling with a little hole in the blanket.

"She was always a sensitive woman, too sensitive for her own good. After the divorce, she started having problems. I was thirteen and Tali was just nine, we noticed she was always sad but we had no idea how… bad things really were. She was probably already slipping into depression, but she always refused to see a doctor, so it went undiagnosed and therefore untreated. For a period, it went in ups and downs. She tried to be strong for us, but within a year she had stopped talking to all our relatives, she rarely left the house, and many times I had to cook dinner because Tali was hungry and our mother would not come out of her bedroom. After a few months I was so overwhelmed I reached out to aunt Nettie. She was my mother's aunt, and they were very close before my mother started to push everyone away. Nettie took care of us and of our mother, and things went better for a while. She seemed more relaxed, she did not get too anxious when she had to go out if one of us went with her. And then… when I joined the army, I think that gave her sanity another blow. She did not want me to go anywhere near my father, but I did. I missed him, and I used the training to get back close to him."

She shook her head. "Bright plan, uh?"

"You couldn't know, Ziva. It made sense at the time," he answered softly. Her question had just been a bitter comment, but he was determined to not let her beat herself up even over missing her father.

She glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to the hole in the blanket.

"Well, it was the beginning of the end. As if losing me to Mossad wasn't enough, a couple of years later she lost Tali – _we_ lost her, and we weren't even able to lean on each other, that is how bad our relationship had gone by then."

She sniffed and brushed away a tear that had made its way out.

He reached out and stilled her fidgeting hands.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, Ziva. Depression is not something loved ones can cure. It isn't your fault your mother fell sick."

She lifted her look to him, and her glassy eyes met his.

"I know that now, but still I wasn't of any help," she replied somberly.

He squeezed her hands, at a loss for words. After a moment of silence, she spoke again.

"I am grateful for one thing, though… we parted on good terms. This blanket, she did it for me. She was angry and disappointed about my decisions, but during her last period she made this as a peace offer. Aunt Nettie had taught her how to crochet to keep her active and give her something to focus on. Did you know that crocheting and knitting are apparently anti-anxiety activities? I read that on a magazine a few months ago. It's funny, I do not think my aunt knew it. She was always a wise woman." She smiled, then took a moment to think.  
"I don't know why I didn't take this blanket with me the first time I moved to the US, but I'm glad I didn't. I would have hated to lose it when my old apartment blew up. I finally asked my aunt to ship it here after… coming back from Saleem's camp. He had taken my Magen David, the only other thing I had left of my mother, and I just… needed to feel her close, after that experience, and after you know, the rift with my father."

Tony stared at her in shock. She had regained her composure and was speaking very matter-of-factly of the most difficult events of her past. He felt like he had learnt more things about her in the past five minutes than in the previous eight years.  
She sensed his astonishment. Her fingertips went to her current necklace and her eyes to his.

"When you all replaced my necklace with this one – " she choked on her words and tried again. "It is good to wear it, as something that came from my new family and that at the same time symbolizes my heritage."

"Yeah, that was Gibbs' idea… and mine, too, but at the time I wasn't sure you'd want to consider me family, after what had happened," he admitted uneasily.

"I'm sorry I made you doubt that," she whispered. "I hoped… when I apologized, I hoped I had made myself clear that I did not consider you responsible for what had happened. It had been my mistake, and mine only" she added, louder and more forcefully.

"You had been clear," he confirmed. "But I still felt somewhat responsible for what you had gone through. I couldn't help thinking that if only I had shown you trust instead of calling you into question, and being hostile, maybe you would have trusted me."

His facial expression told her that that doubt had never really left him. She shook her head.

"Tony, you need to get this out of your head. You had every reason to go for the tough approach. Besides, I was very confused. Being sent away the previous summer, having returned to my father, to my old self, had shaken my world. I had lost my balance, I was fighting for my identity, and I felt split between two homes. I had to choose, and I made the wrong choice. That was it. I would have done the same no matter what."

He nodded, even if he wasn't entirely convinced. If that was the conclusion she had come to, he had to respect it.

"The only thing you're responsible for," she continued, "is me being here today. And I don't mean just because you came to rescue me. You let the door open, and let me come back on my own terms. Stop beating yourself up over something that _I_ did."

"Ok." He took her hands again and looked her in the eyes. "You need to promise me something too. You need to promise me that you'll try to let go some of this guilt. You carry this huge amount of guilt with you, all the time, and I don't know how you manage to walk straight under its weight. You feel guilty towards your father, your mother, your brother, your sister, the team, even me sometimes. That's a _long_ list. It's not healthy, ok? And the thoughts that generate it? Aren't true, for the largest part. Life has been hard on you, and you survived. Yours is survivor's guilt, Ziva. Surviving is good. It's actually great. Why don't you start celebrating it instead?"

She squeezed his hands, and exhaled. He was right, and somewhere deep in her mind she knew it.

"I promise," she said hoarsely. "Just remind me, every once in a while?"

"Do you really need to ask? You should know I can be pretty obnoxious when I decide to insist on something."

He winked, and she answered with her typical throaty chuckle that he loved so much.

She leaned on him, and when she was settled in his arms, he kissed the top of her head.  
His father had been wrong. It wasn't a matter of sweeping her off her feet, but to help her back on them first. And she was trusting him on it. Trust. What had used to be the major problem between them was becoming their strongest bond. They had come a long way.

* * *

 **A/N** _This was a tough one. Tough to write, tough to reread... but oh so satisfying. I hope it has satisfied you as much._  
 _I've tried to write about depression with tact, I hope I made it. Keep in mind that inaccuracies may be due to the fact that we're seeing it from young Ziva's POV._ _Let me know if there is anything that feels horribly wrong._  
 _Let me also know if you liked it, because as you may have guessed by now, I'm particularly fond of this chapter._  
 _I promise happy times will be back soon :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** _Happy new year folks!_ _Sorry for the unannounced hiatus, I got a bit stuck on episodes 10x16 and 10x17, aka Detour and Prime suspect, which didn't offer much to grab on to. On the contrary, I'd say, since they featured old school womanizer Tony, a detail that clashes with the direction this story is taking (and was supposed to take in canon, too).  
So not only I'm late, I'm also cheating, and here is just one chapter, as a tag-but-not-so-much to both episodes.  
Also, for the aforementioned reason, note that this is the turning point: from now on, we'll be slowly but inexorably departing from canon._

* * *

A couple of weeks after their emotional baby-sitting night, Tony took advantage of a moment in which they were alone in the bullpen to walk to Ziva's desk. He approached it nonchalantly, and stood in front of her.

"What?" she asked, looking away from her computer screen for a second, before resuming typing.

"Miss David, I need your attention."

She interrupted her work and leaned against her backrest, looking partly skeptical, partly amused.

He waved a blue envelope, looking extremely satisfied.

"Is that –?" she started, astonished.

"It's _exactly_ that. Two tickets for Les Misérables, the musical, live at the National Theatre, for Sunday afternoon."

"But that was –"

"Sold out? Yep. But, as I only recently was honored to be informed, we have McGee," he explained with a gloating smile.

"I know it's McGee's, I recognized the envelope, but… it's McGee. _McGee_ found these tickets for _you,_ " she repeated incredulously.

"Don't sound so surprised. I'm voluntarily forgetting that you too kept the secret from me."

"Come on, Tony. If you had known six years ago you would have never given McGee a break, you know that."

"I… probably would have. But McFingerInThePie has come to his senses and he's gotten me these tickets as a peace offering, and as a sign that he recognizes that I'm all grown up."

He flashed a sly grin.

"Miss David, would you come with me to the theatre next Sunday?"

"I would love to," she answered, smiling.

"Be ready at 12. We're gonna have lunch first or I might not survive."

"You sat through the movie with no problem," she observed.

"It was _a movie_. On my couch. With popcorn. And you made coffee at some point."

* * *

When she opened him the door that Sunday, she was wearing a simple long sleeved maroon dress, and her hair were down.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he commented, trying to moderate himself.

"You look very good too," she replied, and she meant it. He always dressed with taste, but the deep blue pullover he was wearing that day looked particularly good on him. It also looked very soft, and she felt tempted to touch his chest.

"People tend to dress up for dates, go figure!" he tossed off.

"So this is a date..." she said, feigning surprise.

"According to the latest scientific researches of the most eminent universities, that's what people usually call it when a lady and a guy spend one of their rare Sundays off going out for lunch and to the theatre together, yes."

She gave in to the temptation to touch him.

* * *

While they waited to be served at the restaurant, he asked the question that had been burning in the back of his mind since the tickets incident.

"So you really did consider me a jerk, back then, did you?"

He tried to sound and look like he was just initiating some banter, but she saw through that. It surprised her that he would bring up such a subject. She was accustomed to his insecurities, and she could easily guess where he was coming from, but she hadn't expected him to dwell upon it so much.

"Why would you think that?"

"You backed up McGee," he answered, confirming her guess. "I know you two always did get along, but I thought I was your pal."

There was a tiny bit of jealousy in his voice, hidden behind the put-on playfulness.

"You were," she reassured him. "I told you why I kept McGee's tickets link a secret, and you agreed with me that we had good reasons to do so."

He puckered his lips as an acknowledgment, but didn't drop it.

"Is there anything else I should know that you kept from me?"

"I don't think so."

He narrowed his eyes in mock-disbelief. Then he nodded and turned suddenly serious.

"Sometimes I just get the impression that you didn't have a high opinion of me in the past," he admitted, letting himself be vulnerable in front of her.

She sat straighter at first, then she leaned towards him again, looked him in the eyes and put her hand on the table, stopping it short of touching his.

"Tony, if I had thought you were an idiot, I wouldn't have let you come close the summer Gibbs left. I believed in you. I could see you were smart, and a good agent, and potentially a good leader. You just felt this inexplicable need to act as if you didn't want people to take you seriously, no matter how much you stated the contrary."

"I did want people to take me seriously. I guess I was just afraid to fail and let people down. It was easier to be a clown and then surprise everyone positively," he admitted, and it was the first time he was doing it aloud.

"I know."

"Then why did you just define it 'inexplicable'?"

"It was, to everybody else. You had shown the best of you only to me, and let me see beyond that mask. And then, when you… fell for Jeanne, I knew –"

"That you had been wrong?" he cut her off, trying to joke, but it came out more bitter than he had intended.

"No, that I had been right," she answered, dead serious. "That you were a man. A real man. And a good man."

He didn't give her a proper answer. He just smiled in an almost shy way, while he wondered how they had managed to screw up their friendship that much in the past. Why had it taken so long for them to get to this point, if they always had esteem and love for each other. He felt he had a lot of responsibility about that. After the Jeanne debacle, he hadn't played fair with Ziva. He had taken time, and had been hard to come close to, and he knew he had hurt her feelings more than once. He wasn't ready at the time, and all that had effectively pushed her in Michael's arms.  
The consequences had been dramatic, on the medium term, and the recovery on the long term had been slow, and painful at times.

She noticed his thoughtfulness, but before she could investigate it, the waitress arrived with their wine. By the time their glasses had been filled, the shadow on his face had passed.

He looked her in the eyes again and raised his glass, as she did the same.

"To life," he uttered, in a way that spoke volumes about the message he was trying to convey with that toast.

She caught his drift. It was clear he was referring to their conversation of a couple of weeks earlier.

"To life," she repeated, renewing her promise.

She appreciated that he was reminding her, just like she had asked him, but she realized that in that moment it felt particularly easy to be grateful for being alive.

* * *

When they exited the theatre, they both didn't feel like going straight home, wanting to enjoy each other's company for a little longer. Ziva was the first to voice that need, proposing to take a walk in the National Mall while the sun was still up.

With the plans clear, the conversation could go back to commenting the show.

"That was... I'm afraid of what I'm going to say, honestly."

"You won't turn into a rock or anything, Tony," she teased him, amused, because she knew already where he was getting at.

He inhaled blatantly, closed his eyes and with a solemn expression he enunciated, "It was better than the movie."

She pinched his cheek attentively. "No fall-out. Looks like you are still you."

"You're not gonna tell anyone," he warned her.

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Oh, I have no doubt!" he retorted emphatically.

They smiled and kept walking in silence, admiring the beauty of the park with the last light of the day.

"Admit it, you miss my old version sometimes," he tossed off out of the blue after a while.

"Just because you sometimes stated you missed the old me, you want me to return the sentiment?" she teased in response.

"There is evidence," he retorted slyly. "Junior Agent Ned Dorneget has been probied, and you, Agent David, are partially responsible for that. What do you say in your defense?"

She laughed. "Poor Ned. His horrified expression was too tempting to let it go."

"And? You missed the best of the DiNozzo repertoire."

She rolled her eyes.

"You know, I admitted I liked a live musical better than the movie, you can admit you had fun doing something you would have scolded me about, not long ago."

She snorted. "You are impossible!"

"It's part of my charm."

"Ok," she said, raising a hand. "I had fun. And your playfulness is certainly part of your charm. But..." She put her hand on his chest and moved closer. "As I told you earlier, I like the man behind the mask. And I don't think the new you is any less fun."

 _You need to be who you are. Tony DiNozzo, the class clown. And that is why we love you._

Her words of over two years earlier echoed into her present statement. She liked him the way he was, and she was always there to reassure him about whatever side of himself he was feeling most self-conscious about, at any given time.

He smiled at her, humbled, and didn't look away, unlike he had done in the past. Instead, he covered her hand with his and fleetingly pecked her temple, and he was so quick that he got to see her with her eyes still closed as he pulled away.

Their walk went on in companionable silence after that. Every thing that had needed any resolving had been cleared, and the most serene atmosphere settled. It was new to them. For once, they didn't have to flirt, or joke, or bicker, everything felt right just the way it was.

He felt her warm hand take his and cast an awed glance at her. He shouldn't have been surprised, not really. It certainly wasn't the first time that she had initiated physical contact. And not only provocatively, as she used to do in the early years, but also affectionately. Holding hands while taking a stroll in a park felt so... coupl-y, though.  
She noticed his reaction but didn't respond. His rejection in the cabin still stung a little, no matter how much she agreed with him and appreciated his thoughtfulness. Since he had closed his hand around hers and wasn't giving any sign of considering her move too bold or out of place, she relaxed and decided to just enjoy the moment.  
Then he started stroking the back of her hand and pulling her closer to him, and her residual fear vanished. She halted by turning around and standing in front of him.

"I am going to kiss you now. And you are not going to stop me," she stated, looking him in the eyes with her fierce determination. "I am going to kiss you because I loved every minute of this day, it has been perfect, _you_ are perfect… and I just want to kiss you," she added unnecessarily, her voice suddenly thicker with emotion.

He didn't even answer, nor gave her the time to act on her words. He took her cheek in his hand gently and initiated the kiss.  
It was clear from the beginning that it wouldn't be a tentative kiss. They both poured their restrained desire for each other in it, their affection and growing understanding, and it escalated so quickly that she hit her calf against a bench, without having realized that they had moved.

"Sorry, you alright?" he breathed, loosening his hold on her waist to look at her.

"Yes, yes, it's nothing," she answered, just as breathlessly.

"Good. Let's use this thing then," he suggested, eyeing the infamous bench. "We should manage to avoid injuries, if we sit down," he joked, and his tone made it clear that he intended resuming their activities just as passionately.

"Or... we could move this somewhere warm and comfortable."

She looked at him with that same fierce determination of a few minutes earlier, tinged with lust, and love, and need for things to just _be right_ , for once.

He didn't hesitate, nor asked if she was sure. He just nodded and pecked her lips, before taking her hand and walking in the direction of the car.

The sky had just gone dark when they parked in front of her house. As they passed the threshold, and her hand that had sneaked underneath his open coat came out again to help him get rid of it, she fleetingly though that even if the day was over, there was still the whole night to keep celebrating life.

* * *

 **A/N** _"So much for the small steps policy, Blackandwhity!"  
_ _I can hear you roar, guys. Or maybe not? I know this is a huge leap forward, and I hope it doesn't feel too abrupt to you. My idea is that yes, they've grown a lot, and yes, they're on a path of handling things maturely... but they're Tony and Ziva, the most explosive couple ever, with a lot of sexual tension unresolved. And had the show been the slightest bit realistic, this would have happened ages ago.  
_ _Also, I don't consider sex to be the arrival point in a love story, and there's still a lot to explore.  
_ _So, I hope you'll bear with me... let me know your thoughts anyway._

 _Thank you for reading and a special thanks to guest reviewers, who I don't get to thank personally._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** _T_ _ag to episode 10x18, Seek._

* * *

Tony walked back into the bullpen with McGee, ready to make a show for Ziva about their close encounter with the suspect's dogs and to tease McGee endlessly about how it was clearly his bad influence that made their luck so poor every time dogs were involved, but he had just opened his mouth when he spotted his intended audience crouched down to cuddle Dex, the service dog.

 _Go figure, the scary ninja makes friends with scary beasts_ , he thought, and winced both at the sight and at his mean thought.

He dissimulated his discomfort with Ruby and snickered at Ziva's teasing, but didn't fail to notice how comfortable she looked with Dex. She looked like a child with a pet, and he wondered if she had ever had the chance to have one as a kid.

He observed her for the rest of the day. She looked so relaxed. If he had to be honest with himself, she had been looking relaxed for a while now, and he felt he could leave modesty aside for a moment and admit he might have some credit in that. Playing with that dog seemed to have relaxed her further, though, which roused a surge of irrational jealousy in him and sharpened his aversion towards the whole category.

He decided to investigate an hour later, while they had a snack in the break room.

"So, how come I've never known before that you're such a dog enthusiast?" he asked her casually.

"Lack of opportunity, I guess. We haven't had many chances to work with dogs," she answered simply.

"Thank the Lord," he muttered, shivering at the thought of having to deal with dogs on a more regular basis. "We had that dog that tried to maim McGee a few years ago though... I don't recall seeing you show any love for that one," he teased.

"I have actually been into dogs only in more recent years." She paused and looked unsure what to say for a moment. "Abby must have noticed something," she continued, and he wondered why she had just avoided the topic, and such an innocuous one. He didn't call her on it, even if he was surprised, sure that she'd stick to their deal and come to tell him whatever it was when she was ready.

"About?" he asked instead.

"Us," she replied simply, and her use of that pronoun almost made him choke on his sandwich. "She said something about me not being around much lately. I told her I have been busy," she continued, stressing the last part of the sentence with an allusive smile.

He flashed a flirty grin in response, and asked, "Do you mind that we're keeping this for ourselves?"

They hadn't really discussed the matter, it hadn't been long enough to make them feel already like they were keeping secrets.

"Not at all, but it was awkward."

"Well, it's Abby. This is just the first of a series of absolutely priceless awkward moments," he commented, and with a wink he let her know that he was looking forward to anything that would happen as a consequence of them turning their _thing_ into a stable relationship.

* * *

She met his expectations a few hours later, as they cuddled in her bed after making love. Her hand, that had been tracing random patterns on his chest, suddenly stopped, and she changed position so that they could look at each other.

"It is a... therapeutic thing, you know? Dogs, I mean," she tossed off cautiously, as if she expected to be judged.

"No, I don't. I mean yes, I've read some article lately about a University in Canada or whatever, launching a pet room for students to relieve exams stress, but I thought it was garbage," he admitted honestly, and shot her an apologetic look, to reassure that he wouldn't consider garbage anything she'd share about that subject.

She smiled and took courage to introduce the aspect of the issue that she had been hiding.

"It is not. It is actually very effective. I started visiting dog shelters during my first months back... as a Probationary Agent."

 _Ah_ , he thought, _of course_. He should have imagined her recovery after Somalia would be involved. Those months had been delicate for them, and he hadn't known at the time what she was doing, how she was dealing with her trauma, and he had never found out. Of course he had missed her love for dogs if it had started during that period.

"The first few weeks, I refused to go to therapy. After Vance had called me _damaged goods..._ " she explained bitterly, "I just could not allow myself to call me 'damaged' as well. I told myself having passed the psych evaluation was enough."

He remembered their encounter before her meeting with the office's shrink. He had seen it in her eyes, how much she was hating to have to do that, and he had always thought she must have had performed some Jedi trick on the psychiatrist's mind to pass that test.

"It was not a wise choice," she continued with another bitter smile. "I felt anxious all the time, and it did not take long before that led to feeling... down, often. It started looking too familiar –"

"Your mom," he murmured, and caressed her hair.

"Yeah," she confirmed, and diverted her look at the ceiling. "I asked Ducky to recommend me a therapist after realizing that. She was amazing, really. She never made me feel like a basket case... no, a whack case?"

He chuckled, despite the seriousness of the moment. It had been a long time since her last slip on idioms.

"Basket case, or whack job. You had gotten it right," he explained with a smile, and kissed her fingers.

"Yeah, that," she replied, with a grateful smile. Then she turned serious again. "She prescribed me some medications, but after a while I told her I wanted to reduce the dosage. I did not feel comfortable with the idea of relying on them too much, for too long. I had taken them already in the past and I just... I don't know, it scared me."

Oh, he remembered the past she was referring to, too. He had seen a bottle of prescriptions in her bathroom, eight years earlier, and he was pretty sure he'd caught her swallowing a pill a few times after a hard case, during the next couple of years. That time she almost got killed while undercover, for example. He wondered how much he had underestimated her distress and her prescriptions use, if her past experience had been hard enough to scare her. The thought set a lump in his throat.

"She told me other patients had had good results with meditation and yoga, so I started doing those to compensate. The dogs thing came later, after I remembered something Abby had said about pet therapy. Like you, I had initially disregarded it as garbage," she observed, and she was actually amused. "But my therapist validated it, so I tried that as well."

"And it helped" he half asked, half stated, still incredulous.

"It did! I went often to the shelter until I started being better physically and I was cleared to resume running. I kept going sometimes, afterwards, especially after I stopped taking meds completely. It gave me confidence."

"Amazing," he commented, completely astonished. "You're amazing."

"I just had some common sense, for a change," she answered, self-consciously, but didn't elaborate. Had they gone down that road, their night would've turned out way too gloomy.

"How come you are afraid of dogs?" she asked instead, hoping to restore a lighter atmosphere.

"I'm not afraid _afraid_ in general... ok, I am. Kinda," he added, in response to her raised eyebrows. "I honestly have no idea where that comes from. My aunt had one of those obnoxious little dogs that bark all the time when I was a kid. We didn't like each other, but I don't recall being afraid of it." He paused, digging into his memory. "Maybe that was the reason why I always avoided dogs though. And you can't deny that I wasn't very lucky with casual encounters on the job."

She made an amused face and shifted position to hover over him and kiss him.

"The most annoying thing is I can't tease McGee about it," he observed after a while. "But you can tease me. A little. In private."

"I would not do that! Phobias are not a funny matter. I was afraid of birds, as a kid."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. Do not mock me," she warned him, "I grew out of that."

"I'm sure. It's just... interesting. You weren't always a fearless ninja," he teased her, before he could stop himself.

"I still am not fearless," she observed calmly.

"Really..." he answered, encircling her waist and bringing her closer again to kiss her neck and collarbone. "And what is it that you fear?"

He felt her tense at the question, and stiffened along, realizing a second too late that his question had more profound implications than he had intended.

"Pretend I didn't ask," he whispered close to her ear, and kissed her cheek.

"No, it's okay," she reassured him, and he felt her relax again. "Let's just talk about this another time, yes?"

It took him quite an effort to restrain himself from telling her he loved her, right then and there. He felt emotional at the idea of how much she had been sharing lately, how much trust she had been showing, and how at ease she had looked tonight while discussing her mental health with him, possibly the most private subject for her. And at his last question she hadn't raised her walls as she would have done in the past, she had easily postponed the conversation.

He kissed her to keep himself from rushing into overhasty declarations and tipped them over gently so he'd be the one hovering.  
For now, making love would be enough.

* * *

On the drive back from the Sergeant's funeral, Tony found out he couldn't stop thinking back to Dex, to his bond with Ruby, with the Sergeant... with Ziva. He had noticed on the drive to the cemetery that she had kept petting him, even though the dog seemingly didn't need to be placated. Ziva's voice shook him from his musings.

"And you're awfully quiet again," she observed. "What are you thinking?"

"That I'm amazed by that dog, honestly," he answered. "Gibbs is right, it's a Marine. He served loyally, and bravely, and now he'll take care of Ruby. Have you seen her relief when he ran to her? It was..." he stopped, trying to find a fitting description.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Having Dex back will help Ruby a lot."

He cast a glance at her, unsure if it was a good idea to tell her what else he had been thinking. He decided to give it a try, but started out beating around the bush.

"You know, I was serious before. I'd really like to get a dog, in the future."

"You are afraid of dogs, Tony" she pointed out gently.

"I know. That's why I'm saying _in the future_. I need to overcome that first. You could help me," he suggested, looking at her sideways. He hoped she'd get that the future he was talking about was a future with her, and didn't care at all about how sappy it sounded.

She did get it, and unlike he had expected, she looked at him with a somewhat displeased expression.

"Tony, you cannot keep doing this," she affirmed sternly.

"Doing what?" he asked, baffled.

She softened her tone and features. "I appreciate what you do. Everything you do, really, you're so sweet, but... you keep doing things that _I_ like, for me, and I just want us to do something for _you_ , for a change. The camping, the theatre, those are okay, it's a one day thing, but a dog? That is a huge commitment. You cannot force yourself to like dogs because I like dogs, and I do not want you to."

He pulled over, and looked at her all serious. He was delighted and frustrated at the same time.

"I _liked_ the camping, and if you recall, I liked _very much_ the theatre as well. I like doing things with you. I absolutely adore doing things with you." He caressed her cheek and smiled affectionately. He saw her open her mouth but didn't give her the time to intervene. "You have this beautiful, rich, full of interests personality, and I like to spend time exploring your interests with you. It's a part of knowing you and being with you – " _And loving you._ He stopped short of saying that, once again. "And we do do stuff that I like," he added, stubbornly.

He saw her relax and smiled back at her.

"Still, trying to overcome your fear is something you should do for yourself. It is a very personal thing," she stated in response.

"It would be. I told you, I'm really amazed by what I've seen this week."

She seemed satisfied, so he felt encouraged to take the risk to be blunt.

"Ziva," he called, as she was retrieving her stuff and getting ready to get off the car. When he was sure he had her attention, he asked "Are you alright? I've noticed you were interacting with Dex a lot, before, and I couldn't help wondering if... there is anything that is bothering you."

She stilled and didn't answer for a few beats. When she did, she was glacial.

"Are you going to overanalyze every single thing I do from now on, based on whatever I decide to share with you?"

He winced at her verbal blow. "I didn't mean it like that, come on. Why are you feeling attacked? I'm just... I care, I worry, do you want me to apologize about this?" he added, and frustration took over this time.

She paused to consider his reasoning, but another thought dawned on her and fueled her anger.

"Is this why you were talking about getting a dog? In the future? As a thing to do together? You think I will forever be a basket case who needs a dog to stay sane? Is that what you were thinking?" She hadn't raised her voice the slightest bit, but she sounded outraged.

"Ziva, no –"

"I did not share that bit of my past with you so you could turn me into your pity case."

"You know very well that that's not what you are to me," he answered, trying to keep calm, but he was losing his patience too.

She noticed it, and realized that if they had kept going, they both would have ended up saying things they'd regret later.

"See you tomorrow," she said, grabbing her stuff and opening the car door.

"Seriously?" he challenged.

She seemed to hesitate for a second, and then closed the door and walked inside her apartment complex, leaving him disoriented. It wasn't like her to walk away from confrontations. The thought only reinforced his feeling that there had to be something wrong.

* * *

She closed the door and leaned on it, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She felt a pang of guilt for attacking Tony like that. Especially because he had been right. He had seen into her, and she hadn't been prepared, so she had reacted on impulse. _When you cannot defend yourself, attack._ That was what her instinct had been all her life, and she had momentarily fallen back into that pattern.

She looked into herself and took the courage to admit, at least in her mind, that yes, something _was_ bothering her. Getting that intel on Bodnar from her contact, after months of silence, had bothered her, that morning. Being caught by Vance had annoyed her. Discussing loss and moving on with him had exhausted her. The day had stressed her out, and yes, she had unconsciously sought a contact with Dex to get some relief.

She didn't want to regret sharing her little pet therapy secret with Tony, but somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind, she did. Just a bit. Because she needed some time to figure out what to do with that intel. She needed to do some research on her own before telling him. And now that stupid detail had given her away, which had led her to break both their honesty pact and the resolution to never run from him again, and her reaction to his concern had created a friction during a very happy moment in their ever complicated relationship.

She took her phone and typed _I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you, nor to walk away, but –_ and erased it when she realized she didn't know how to continue without either sounding like she was giving him the cold shoulder or inviting him back to make up. This would have to wait, it needed to be done in person, after they both had let some steam off.

She sat on her couch and exhaled slowly, then took her computer to start working on a plan.

* * *

 **A/N** _And here I am again, writing about mental health, even if I'm not an expert about it. I've always thought that Ziva's trauma after her captivity was diminished and swept under the rug in the show, which was a huge waste, from a storytelling point of view (and as somebody pointed out on Tumblr recently, it showed how little they cared for female characters... but that's another problem). Sadly, I've chosen to stick to canon as much as possible for this story, so I tried to address the issue in a way that could fit into the original story.  
What are your thoughts about this?_

 _Thank you for being still here with me in this journey, you rock!_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** _Tag to episode 10x19, Squall._

* * *

The next couple of days ended up being awkward. Ziva apologized to Tony the morning after their argument, but didn't admit he had been right. To do so, she would have been forced to tell him that she had news on Bodnar and that she intended to work on them, and she didn't feel ready to share that yet. She knew he would have tried to talk her out of it again, like he had done at the airport, and she didn't want to miss her chance. She hoped she could convince him that her investigation was legitimate and that it could be crucial by showing him solid facts and an actual trail. He was a cop, who thought like a cop, after all. Facts and trails required time, though, so she had to compromise and be elusive for a while.

Her reticence only served to reinforce Tony's worry and frustration, and to his utter annoyance he found himself incapable of forgiving her outburst. He realized he felt hurt because he had the clear sensation that she was lying to him, and he couldn't fathom how it was possible that they had regressed to that stage once again.

They spent three nights in a row apart, a time that Ziva spent doing some research in complete privacy. _How convenient_ , she thought bitterly on the second night, feeling horrible for having created that tension and even more so for taking advantage of it.

On the fourth day, the situation with McGee's father forced them to divert their focus on something different than the issues in their relationship. Along with the rest of the team, they kept an eye on their friend. He wasn't talking, and they didn't expect him to. He started disappearing from the office frequently after the discovery, with every excuse he could find, partly because he needed to deal with the shock, partly because all the attention wasn't helping him.

It was during one of McGee's breaks that Tony allowed himself to turn his attention back to Ziva, only to notice that she looked tense. Well, more tense than she had already been during those three impossible days. He told himself to look away, that if she wanted to keep being secretive he couldn't do anything about it, that as childish as it sounded he wasn't going to give in first... and disregarded his own resolution less than an hour later, by following her when she stood up and headed to the break room.

She was a bit surprised to find him after her, and guilt and gratefulness mixed up in her as she poured some coffee for him and passed him the mug as a peace offer, hoping that the upcoming conversation would bring them on the same side, at least temporarily.

She spoke after they had both taken their first sip, leaning on the counter side by side, but not as close as usual.

"I'm worried for McGee."

"Yeah," he agreed, "me too. There isn't much we can do, though."

A pause followed. He was determined not to insist on showing his concern for her, considering how such thing was apparently unwelcome lately.

"We can give him some time," she answered, "and just let him know we're here if he needs anything."

"That's the tricky part, isn't it? Knowing how much time is a safe amount and not screwing up the next move." he mused bitterly.

She flinched at his remark. "You did not screw up with me," she muttered, sounding defeated.

"Yeah, sure, looks like it." he retorted sarcastically. "You know what? I don't want to discuss this right now. Our friend needs us." he added hastily, in an attempt to keep the situation from degenerating. But before he could control himself, he let his pent-up frustration leak through his next statement. "And since it turns out I'm not very good at figuring out what to do in these circumstances, I'll leave it to you to talk to him or whatever."

He moved away from the counter, ready to leave, but apparently his last dig had flipped a switch.

"'Talk to him'?" she quoted, her nerves suddenly on the edge. "You mean as someone who never fixed her wrecked relationship with her father before he died? What do you think I should tell him, 'go fix 30 years of mess before it's too late and you end up regretting it forever? Before you end up _like me_ '? Or is this something _you_ already told him?"

He knew that the relevant part of her tirade was just the first, which was obviously the reason for her tension. He knew such thoughts had been on her mind long before that moment, and that they didn't have to do with his comment. Her last insinuation had been so vitriolic though, so openly hurtful, that he couldn't stop himself from taking the bait.

"What exactly are you implying?"he snapped. Then, realizing he had almost yelled, he lowered his voice, but his face remained just as angry. "You have something to hold against me? Go on, I'm all ears."

"I am not implying anything Tony. I am just saying that your hurry to take action, and tell things, and pry into people's business is out of place sometimes."

That was enough for him to finally drop the pretense that they were still talking about McGee.

"I haven't asked you _one single question_ these days. Have you noticed? Not one. You attacked me, then you've been evasive and pushed me away, and I let you have your space. Either you believe I 'didn't screw up with you', or you call me a rubbernecker." He exhaled loudly before continuing, trying to be more calm. "You know better than this. I'm sorry that what's going on is stressful for you, and it's bringing up stuff, but you don't get to take it out on me. Not like this." he added sadly.

She just looked at him, knowing well she couldn't debate on that point, and then walked past him, and he didn't miss the tears forming in her eyes.

He shook his head and exhaled once again, trying to pull himself together, to not feel hurt by her words, to keep himself from calling into question all he had done in the past months and the validity of their progress, and from letting the crippling doubt that they had gone too far too fast break him.  
He waited another minute before walking back to the bullpen, and moved only when he was sure he could keep his poker face in place.

She didn't even throw a glance in his direction when he took place at his desk, and managed to avoid meeting his eyes for a while. When she couldn't do it anymore, she adopted McGee's strategy and left.

* * *

At the end of a day full of heavy silences, guarded looks, and recurring absences, he found her waiting for him in the parking lot. He stopped a few of feet from her, intending to tell her he wasn't interested on a second match and leave, but the snap died in his throat as he saw her. All the tension seemed to have drained from her, and she just looked sad.

She looked him in the eyes and spoke first.

"I am so sorry, Tony. I did not mean to snap at you... again. Nor to hurt you, again."

"But you did," he blurted out. "Give me a reason. Just give me one good reason for these four days." _Because I don't deserve this_. He kept himself from saying it out loud, because he didn't want to sound too pathetic. His begging tone was making a great job with that already.

"Today... I was angry at myself, and I took it out on you," she tried to explain, and felt even more ashamed because she knew that this didn't even remotely qualify as a good reason.

"I noticed. Look, I kinda get this, I do. And I'm sorry I've stirred up trouble with my remarks," he added. He felt that he was the one that had been wronged, but he was willing to acknowledge his own responsibilities, if that meant finding a way out of the nightmare they had been living in.

"You did not! Don't take the fault, please, it was all me. I had been dwelling upon that the whole morning," she admitted. "And I am really sorry for calling you intrusive," she stressed. "That was stupid, and out of line, and most importantly _not true_. I hope you know I don't see you that way. You have been here for me all these months, keeping me grounded and sane... and you made me happy, often" she added with a small smile.

"Then where did that come from, Ziva?" he asked, exasperated.

She sighed. "I relapsed into some old bad habits, this week."

He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and nodded.

"Okay. We're going to discuss that, too. Now, can you tell me why you were angry at yourself today?"

She felt like crying, right then and there, because she felt the priority was to fix the mess that had happened, and she was ready to give up her complicated plans and come clean about what it was that she had been hiding, while his priority was still her wellbeing. Even after she had given him a hard time about it.  
She looked away to regain her composure, and suddenly felt his fingertips brush against her cheek as he tucked behind her ear a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She pressed her eyes shut to control the flood of sensations.

"I was jealous," she confessed then, in a whisper. "What kind of person is jealous of a friend who is losing his father?" She shook her head, disgusted at herself. "It's just… it is not fair. I would have never wanted to see my father die slowly of a terrible disease just to have the time to work out some of our… disagreements." She wiped her suddenly wet cheek. "But we fought, and half an hour later he was dead. The last thing I told him – "

She tried to go on and failed. He saw her struggle and felt the impulse to take her in his arms and hold her tight, but he knew it was important to wait for her to finish letting it out. If it had taken her almost three months to elaborate the matter at hand, it could only mean it was a very difficult one.  
He stroked her cheek lightly, with the back of his finger.  
She sought his eyes, and saw no judgment in them. He was looking at her attentively, and supportively. He was being... Tony, and that sight helped her forget momentarily that they were in deep water and find the courage to face her regrets.

"I told him his sins were too great," she uttered hoarsely."I was angry and disappointed because I had just caught him lying to me again, and I denied him my forgiveness. And then he died, before I had the time to cool down and think it over and maybe tone down my answer a bit."

She took a deep breath and looked down.

"For four months, I thought I was having troubles forgiving him. The truth is, I cannot forgive myself. And I know even if I had not said what I said a lot of stuff would have stayed unresolved. But it still was not the way I wanted us to part." She sniffed and looked Tony in the eyes again. "See, this has nothing to do with what you did or said, I'm so sor–"

He shook his head and interrupted her by finally pulling her in a hug. He shushed her and kissed her hair and temple and whispered over and over again in her ear that he got it, he got _her_ , they were okay. She felt her self control crumble under his tender reaction, and she finally allowed herself to cry without restraint for her father and her rocky relationship with him, but also for the blessing of being in this wonderful man's arms, for having caused him pain, for the fear that her troubled past would keep undermining her future, _their_ future, and that she would actually be a basket case forever (oh, the things she had rubbed in Tony's face, that were just garbage from the darkest corner of her mind).

He let her unload, just holding her quietly after his first attempts to reassure her. He soon got lost in his musings. He hadn't expected her to just be fine – he knew too well that grief comes in waves – but he realized he had underestimated how deep her issues with the lack of closure still ran. And it hadn't been lost on him that she had begun her explanation with "today", and had mentioned her old habits. He had a very clear feeling that whatever rabbit hole she had gone down in the previous days might have originated from something unhealthy and potentially dangerous.

The sight of Palmer walking by distracted him. He saw him wave and open his mouth to greet them, and then suddenly blush as he realized there was something intimate going on, drop his hand and his cheerful expression, and change direction awkwardly. Tony sighed, taking a mental note to go talk to him the next day. _To tell him what?_ , was his next thought. Apologize? Tell him the truth? What truth?  
Since Ziva's breath had evened out and she seemed to have calmed down, he disentangled his arms from her shoulders and studied her face. She nodded in response, to confirm she was in control.

"We should move, or Abby won't be the only gossip source tomorrow," he pointed out. "Look, if you need some time tonight it's okay, we can discuss the rest tomorrow," he offered. He wanted to finish clearing the air but he could tell she was spent.

She was tempted to accept. Oh, so tempted. She needed his comfort, and she needed the break, but she felt she didn't deserve it, while on the contrary he did deserve all her honesty and he deserved it _now_.

"Thank you," she answered, twitching her lips in the ghost of a grateful smile, "but we need to talk. This is why I was here in the first place."

"Okay. My place? Or neutral ground?"

She frowned. "We're not at war, Tony. My place will do. See you there."

He watched her walk to her car, and wished she hadn't turned down his truce proposal. Weird, how he had only wanted to know for days, and now that he was about to he just wanted to be with her and forget everything. For the first time in months, he dreaded what the night would bring.

* * *

 **A/N** _Dear readers, I need to announce that a hopefully not too long hiatus will follow this chapter, because I'm afraid it'll take me some time to turn the bunch of 50 words drafts, that are currently all I have of the remaining 4/5 chapters, into proper, elaborated story material.  
_ _I'm sorry for how much I've been slowing down with the updates, but apparently I had underestimated the time and effort that writing a story of such proportions - and in a language that isn't even my first!- would take.  
_ _Thank you for understanding and for your patience._

 _If you feel like it, let's kill time with a poll: what were your favorite and least favorite moments until now?_


End file.
